Some people would like you to believe that their materialistic lifestyle is the sole path to any sort of happiness. Some people clothe themselves in their Chinese-made button down dress shirts and their Mexican crafted ties, put their papers cut from the living rain forests into their naugahyde briefcases and strap themselves into their iron boxes of death constructed in Taiwan, passing down the concrete rivers of Babel on their way to some kind of truth? Some people don't know the truth.
Some people like McGone.
I met McGone on a trip. He was lost, and couldn't find his way. He envied me, the carefree lifestyle of The Idea Of Progress, off exploring the wilds of Wisconsin and getting close and personal with adopted character actress Zooey Deschanel. McGone was content spending his time playing games while hanging out in the bathroom.
He was trapped in the International House of Blogcakes.
Behind its windows steamed up with the condensation caused by the sweat of Fact Checker Diego Cezanne (who recently became a citizen of Canada not the United States, as IHOB claimed) laboring over an Ikea catalog, forced to search out the right duvet cover for his boss, behind that oh so grim facade, lies the beginnings of a man. And I'm not talking about Diego.
He may be trying to maintain at threat level BEIGE, but all it will take will be one pilot light blown out on his stove and McGone will be on the path to self-knowledge.
And I will be there.